


I was born on the scene

by Marishna



Series: Scream My Name [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Eichen | Echo House, Jealous Peter, Jealousy, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Post-Season 4, Stranger Sex, Young Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:17:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was it about Derek that made all these humans pant for him like dogs? Peter let his gaze do a once-over on Stiles, blatant and open. Stiles flushed a little but grinned back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I was born on the scene

"Do you think it will work?" Deaton asked staring into the cell at Eichen House.

"If it worked on Derek as you said there wouldn't be any harm in trying," Marin replied, turning to her brother. "Is it worth the repercussions?"

"While I like to hold that everything in life serves a purpose I don't think anyone, including myself, would be upset to be rid of Peter once and for all if La Iglesia doesn't work. A blank slate is ideal but not necessary," Deaton replied.

Marin hummed. "We'll see, Alan."

***

It didn't smell right.

Peter's eyes popped open and he sat up, looked around quickly. His claws were already out, fangs descending. But there was no threat.

Yet.

He took stock of his surroundings, tried to recall the last thing he could remember. Something about that girl Derek was lusting after, thought he was in _love_. 

Peter felt a pang of guilt but shoved it down, refused to think about it. He had more important matters to deal with. Like finding out where the hell he was. 

He got off the couch warily and looked around. It smelled familiar, was the thing, but off. He could smell his own scent but it wasn't _right_ and it was stale. Derek was there, too, but gathered amongst too many others that he didn't recognize. 

He listened for the slightest hint of anything but all he could hear was from outside. He crossed the room to the giant windows and surveyed the land. All he could see was his own reflection and buildings. He was in the industrial part of Beacon Hills, a distance away from the preserve and home. 

 He almost smiled at the thought of returning home, feeling a sense of comfort at the idea, but he heard footsteps outside the loft and he froze. Someone was running up the stairs, talking to themselves. 

 Peter was across the room and by the sliding door, back pressed against the wall before the intruder's hand even reached for the handle. When it slid open Peter grabbed the person by the shift, pulled them in and slammed them against the door with a loud thud. He shifted, snarling and growling.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! No!" 

Peter surveyed his captive, took in the rapid heartbeat and scent of fear. He was a young man, likely 18 or so. His height, with dark hair, smooth skin and eyes that were the colour of whiskey and currently wide as saucers from terror.

 "Who are you?" Peter asked, toning down the snarling.

"Me? Who are _you_? And what are you doing here?"

" _I'm_ asking the questions!" Peter pushed his forearm into the man's throat, tapping his clawed fingers against the skin.

"Fine, fine! I'm looking for Derek! We were supposed to go through a section of the bestiary."

"Where is he?" Peter asked. "Who are you?"

"Clearly I don't know if I'm here to see him and _he's not here_ ," the man replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm Stiles. Who're _you_?"

"Also looking for Derek," Peter replied. He assessed the man and then let him go, judging him to be a non-threat. He was a simple human. Figures he'd be looking for Derek. He stepped away and shifted back.

"Why are you looking for Derek here?" Peter asked, turning things over in his mind.

"Because this is his place?" Stiles leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets, and Peter felt him look up and down his body. Ah yes, there's one of the smells Peter detected in the loft already. 

Aroused Stiles.

What was it about Derek that made all these humans pant for him like dogs? Peter let his gaze do a once-over on Stiles, blatant and open. Stiles flushed a little but grinned back.

Peter, ever the opportunist if he was anything, stepped back into Stiles' personal bubble. This guy wasn't scared of him anymore. Thought he wasn't a threat. Let his guard down when he should be waiting for the kill strike.

"Derek could be a while," Peter said quietly, leaning in. Stiles tilted his head up and met Peter's eyes. 

"He really could be," Stiles replied, tone low and a little strained. 

Peter reached between them for Stiles' belt and slowly unbuckled it, waiting for Stiles to put a stop to it. His heart rate picked up again, but a steadier beat instead of the rabbit-fast one of terror before.

Stiles kept his hands in his pockets, curled into fists. Peter pulled them out and put them on his hips instead, so he could unzip and push Stiles' pants open. He shoved them down until they were pooled at his feet, leaving his cock tenting his Batman boxers. 

Peter refrained from rolling his eyes. Of course Batman boxers. 

Peter pushed the boxers down enough to wrap his hand around Stiles' cock that was already fully hard and twitching against his palm. Peter grinned. This wouldn't take long.

He pressed in close, pushing his chest against Stiles' and his lips against Stiles' ear so Stiles would hear his voice rattling around in his head as clear as his own.

"Is this what you expected when you came here, Stiles?" Stiles shook his head and Peter chided him. "Tell me Stiles. Is this what you thought you'd get when you came here?"

"No," Stiles whispered. Peter stroked him slowly, twisting his hand on the upstrokes like he used on his own cock. 

"Would you like to, though?" Peter asked.

"Hungh?" Stiles grunted, jerking his hips a little. Peter squeezed his fingers around the base of Stiles' cock and he whimpered in protest. 

"Pay attention Stiles, is this something you thought Derek would do for you?" Peter asked, growing impatient already. He jerked Stiles roughly, gathering precome from the head to ease his way some.

"N-no," Stiles replied, tone a bit confused. He lifted his hands from Peter's waist to his shoulders, as if to separate them a little, but Peter licked at Stiles' neck and started stroking him in faster, smoother motions and Stiles slumped back against the wall again.

"Why is my nephew helping you? How can he?" Peter pressed, whispering into Stiles' ear, using his other hand to press behind Stiles' balls when he felt his body tense.

It took a second but Stiles stiffened, both as he came and from shock and his expression was a mixture of horror and release. 

Peter felt something snap and crack within himself, shift his perspective and the world shifted on its axis for a moment before he felt everything settle and he was finally able to understand what the hell was going on.

Stiles looked at him in disgust, panting with his spent cock hanging out of his boxers. Peter did roll his eyes this time as he reached out to wipe his hand on them.

"That was different," Peter said, stretching as he readjusted to his older body.

"What the hell is going on?" 

Stiles and Peter both looked over at the doorway where Derek was standing, furious and on the edge of wolfing out.

"Looks like there's at least one thing I'm better at than you," Peter said in passing as he walked out of the loft, leaving Derek and Stiles in his wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically Deaton thinks he can "fix" Peter by taking him to La Iglesia and taking him back to before the fire like Derek. 
> 
> Never thought I'd write any Peter/Stiles but here we are.
> 
> Day 13 of Merry Month of Masturbation.


End file.
